The Toys –COVENTRY PATMORE

 POEM – 5

The Toys

–COVENTRY PATMORE

 

My little son, who looked with thoughtful eyes

And moved and spoke in quite grown-up wise
Having my law the seventh time disobeyed.

I struck him, and dismissed

With hard words, and unkissed, –

His mother, who was patient, being dead.

Then fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep,

I visited his bed,

But found him slumbering deep,

With darkened eyelids, and their lashes yet

From his late sobbing wet.

And I, with moan,

Kissing away his tears, left others of my own;

For on a table drawn beside his head,

He had put, within his reach,

A box of counters and a red-veined stone,

A piece of glass abraded by the beach,

And six or seven shells,

And two French copper coins ranged there with careful art.

To comfort his sad heart.

So when that night I prayed

To God, I wept, and said:-

Ah, when at last we lie with tranced breath,

Not vexing thee in death,

And thou remembrest of what toys

We made our joys,

How weakly understood

Thy great commanded good

Then, fatherly not less

Than I whom thou hast molded from the clay,

Thou’lt leave thy wrath, and say,

I will be sorry for their childishness.